


A truth you need to believe

by Raven_hoodoo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Talon Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2018-10-24 14:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10743777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_hoodoo/pseuds/Raven_hoodoo
Summary: How much can you trust a man when Talon had reached in and tore out his heart?i.e. Five times Reaper doubted the ingrate





	1. Only monsters kill the innocent

_ The boy was too young _

 

That was Reaper’s first, second and third thought as he waited for the signal to pounce. The mission as a whole had been flaming pile of shit. Offically, the mission brief had been to hunt down and eliminate Talon defectors. In the end it had been more of a slaughter; scientists who didn’t know who they were working for until it was too late, green agents who had second thoughts. In short dumbasses you didn’t need a top mercenary to kill. Still, attempting to thread the needle between actively sabotaging Talon’s plans and staying alive plus an active agent to do so wasn’t easy. The last two losses against Overwatch had apparently made Talon suspicious. Thus the bullshit mission, with easy kills and a bullshit handler that Reaper was desperate to shake the yoke of. Reaper wasn’t going to cry over some civilians who’d made bad decisions. He’d made that mistake before. But... _ the boy was too young _

 

Said mistake approached from the left, ridiculous spurs jangling despite the need for stealth. He said nothing and Reaper knew without looking that his face was adorned with that same empty grin he’d had since Talon did...something to him. They hadn’t shared the details. Just told Reaper he was getting a new partner and “Oh, I know he was Overwatch and you hate them but you better play nice because he’s our asset now.” It would have been better if they’d given him the widowmaker treatment, made him something entirely different to his former self. But no, the mannerisms, the cadence of speech, the memories, it was all Jesse Mccree. Just with all his heart, everything that really made him him, surgically removed. Reaper tried to keep the two separate in his head. There was Jesse, once his-, once very important to him that Talon had destroyed, taken just like everything else in his life. Then there was the ingrate, a pale imitation to the real thing. Even if both shared an enjoyment of the cowboy motif.

 

In his periphery, he could see the ingrate tilt his head towards the kid. Maybe if he didn’t acknowledge him he’d go away. (He wouldn’t, neither Jesse or the ingrate could abide being ignored). The boy’s mother came from the door below, frantically looking about before going to scrub the soot and dust from the boy’s face. The same soot covered her face, broken only by the growing tear tracks. There had been an explosion at the compound they’d being staying at, the Talon rebels. (Reaper knew. He’d been ordered to set the explosion.) There was a hushed conversation before the mother grabbed the kid and hurried them towards the other exit to the alley. She looked hunted. Probably because she was. 

 

“Might I ask why they’re not dead yet?” the ingrate asked, tone deceptively casual. He’d been sent to monitor the mission, to monitor Reaper. A Talon asset infinitely more trustworthy than a Talon mercenary, particularly one that had failed such as Reaper had. Reaper wouldn’t let it bother him. Or at least wouldn’t show it. Showing weakness to the ingrate was just asking for trouble down the line.

 

Back when Jesse first came in from the Deadlock’s he had a few bad habits. One being the way he had of finding a person’s weakness, any crack they had left unguarded, and wedging a lever straight into it. Back then it was a self preservation technique, a way of getting the upper hand. These days it screamed of an underlying viciousness that Jesse never had. 

 

“They must be the wrong targets, I was never briefed on a kid being part of Talon.” 

“Mmm, nope,” the ingrate said popping the P, “says it right here: Laurel Sanders, age 35 years old. Benjamin Sanders, age 14 years old. Mission Parameters: no survivors. Clear as crystal Gabe.” The smirk is clear in his voice. He’d made the mistake of taking issue with the name once to the ingrate and he hadn’t let it go since. Reaper still doesn’t turn to look at him. Doesn’t like looking at the facsimile of a smile more than he has to. The mother and child had reached the end of the alleyway. He could let them go. 

“You should probably chase them before they get away Darlin’.”

He could smuggle them out of the city, he could- he could fail and his plans to take Talon down could die with him. And Talon needed to die. For all that they’d done, for Zurich, Jack and Je-. Decision made, Reaper leapt from the roof and followed the trail left by the two as they attempted to leave the city. He found them easily enough. They were tired and Reaper was well fed this mission. Wraithing through the gaps of two buildings he rematerialised with a shotgun to each of the escapees’ heads. It should have been the last thing they felt but- he still hesitated. 

_ The boy is too young. There has to be another way.  _

“Do you have an escape plan,” Reaper asked hurriedly. Even now he knew the ingrate would be tracking him, making sure he could report back to his Talon masters. Luckily as a wraith Reaper could travel much faster. They could  get away if they had a good enough escape plan. A good enough reason he could use to justify losing them. 

“Yes we- please don’t kill him, he’s not a part of this,” the mother pleaded, new tracks of tears streaming down her face. He lowered his guns almost involuntarily.  _ Too damn young _

He could-

A loud crack sounded in the air and Reaper could do nothing as the two fell almost simultaneously. A neat bullet hole above the unseeing eyes of the boy and Reaper knew even before he crouched to turn the mother over that he would see the same in her forehead. He’d forgotten. The ingrate didn’t travel fast but was still a sniper with a simple revolver. And Reaper had led him right to them. 

From his position on the ground, he leant over to close the boy’s eyes. He considered a quick prayer then quickly considered against it. Prayers from monsters were seldom helpful. The sound of those damn spurs was quick to bring him back to himself. 

“They were mine to kill ingrate.” He won’t turn around. Can’t. Deadeye, Jesse had called it when he was young and full of life. He didn’t know how true the future would make that name. 

“You had your chance. Besides this mission has been awfully long and I’ve been awfully bored. Couldn’t let you have all the fun.” 

He doesn’t know what he’s feeling right now. There is blood on his hands and while he’s seen a lot of blood, caused a lot; there is an emptiness that looms at being the cause of this. The worst thing is that the thought that he keeps coming back to, isn’t one of the boy, of his mother, of lost innocent lives. It’s that Jesse wouldn’t have done this but whatever Talon did to his head…

_ Fuck Jesse, I’m sorry.  _

He makes the mistake of looking back, of looking the ingrate in the eye. The empty stare is more penetrating than usual. He wonders what the ingrate is looking for. Is it what Reaper is constantly looking for in him? If so, they’ll both be disappointed. Gabriel Reyes died in the fire and Reaper is just his wraith, born of the desperate need for revenge. And Jesse...Jesse never would have done this. 

Reaper held still under his gaze, determined not to give anything away. A thousand excuses came to mind as they waited in the stillness. He could claim to be toying with them. Or seeking information to hunt any who would have helped them. Talon appreciated a sadistic streak in their agents. They’d probably believe him. The ingrate, who still had Jesse’s mind even if not his heart, well… There was a reason Talon assigned him. Reaper just hoped it wasn’t because they knew the weakness spending time with the ingrate brought out in him. 

He opened his mouth to justify, to explain, then abruptly shut it again. Saying nothing was a lot less incriminating. Let the ingrate search, he’d get nothing from him. Maybe they could just avoid the whole conversation. It’s not like Reaper had anything worth saying to him. Of course the ingrate never could let anything go.

“Tell me, that boy, were you thinking of rescuing him? Setting him on the right path? You in the market for a new protege darlin’?”, the ingrate said. He leaned against the wall casually like he hadn’t just shot a mother and her child in cold blood. His eyes were still searching, their intensity in stark contrast to the lazy grin on his face. Reaper said nothing. There was nothing good that could come from this conversation. 

“Aww, still so silent. You don’t love me anymore Gabe? I don’t know why you’re so angry, you pretty much put me on the path I walk today,” he paused, a sparkle of delight in his eyes. Like he'd come up with a joke and just needed to set up the punchline. “It’s okay boss, I’m sure you can mentor the next kid. Talon would love some new cold blooded killers. You train us so well. Boy howdy, and I thought I had blood on my hands after Deadlock.” 

Reaper knew he was just trying to get a rise out of him. Knew that the better option would be to stay silent, to walk away. He never could stop himself from rising to the ingrate's bait. “I should have shot you-”

“When? In Deadlock Gorge or a couple of weeks ago? I mean either bullet would have been a mercy. God I remember young me, so naive, ready to believe he was gonna work for the good guys. He was adorable. I mean that’s why you kept him right? There is nothing quite like giving someone hope just to take it away,” he paused in exaggerated thought, “Oh! Was that what you were doing? Giving the targets hope just to crush it? I mean I know you like to play with your food but that’s next level. Shame the mission parameters were so clear cut. I mean I love a good psychological torture session as much as the next person but the targets had to die or I’d have had to kill you. Maybe next time though! Hey, maybe I can play the gallant hero next time!” 

Another thing the ingrate and Jesse had in common. Once they got on a roll they were hard to stop. Not that Reaper had tried. It was hard to keep the two apart in his head. That what the ingrate said now is not what Jesse had believed. Was it? 

He chose instead to focus on the more absurd part of what the ingrate had just said. “You think you could have killed me? I taught you everything you know.”

“Not everything. Always underestimating me boss. You should watch that. Could be a health hazard.” 

“What are you-”

“I mean, how many times have I surprised you at this point? Pretty sure I’ve lost count. God, remember that time at Dorado? You were so worried,” he paused to laugh before continuing, “Then there was Munich. Heh, even out of mission I could always get you. God knows you didn’t expect me leaving you. Did you think I loved you too much?”

_Never_ _ let him see you flinch. Don’t react. It’s not him. _ He knows he hasn’t quite succeeded by the way the ingrate's eyes light up in victory, completely undermining the innocent expression on his face. A predator scenting blood in the water. 

“It must burn you to wonder. Did he  still love me before talon did this? Did he give a damn? Did he ever love me at all?  I mean you were my superior, bit of a power imbalance there. Maybe I just fucked you for the mission perks.”

“I gave you everything!” Reaper could feel himself rapidly losing control of the situation. If he ever had it. The ingrate knew it too.   
  
“Mmm, maybe that's why I left. You had nothing left to give. Is that why you threw in with Talon? Did you ask them to do this to me? Make sure you were my last person? Tear my emotions out cause if I couldn’t love you, I shouldn’t be able to love anyone?”

Reyes couldn’t help the flinch this time. Couldn’t help the instinctive response as if it was his Jesse in front of him. His Jesse that thought-

“I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know.”

He knew he'd made a mistake before the words had fully slipped from his mouth. He was playing into the ingrate's game.  _ Never show weakness. Never show him which wounds to salt. It’s not him. It’s never him. _

The ingrate settled back, pleased as punch. He seemed willing to leave it there now he'd exposed a weakness he could use later. Whatever emotions he’d rustled up had already disappeared from his face. A facade. In contrast Reyes felt like he’d been in a gunfight. Like the ingrate had hit an exposed nerve. Probably because he had. 

“Good to know Gabe, good to know,” the ingrate said, gently patting Reyes’ shoulder as he brushed past. Reyes stood still, holding himself together until the ingrate was out of sight. He collapsed against the wall, alone with the two bodies left forgotten on the floor. There was still an hour to extraction. Enough time to hide the bodies and pull himself together. The kid and his mother looked at peace at least. Their ends had been quick. 

As he went to leave, Reyes realised he’d never quite gotten the ingrate to explain how he thought he’d kill him. He shuddered. In a fair fight he’d win but Mccree had never fought fair. 

\---------

Debrief wasn’t the clusterfuck Reaper expected. At least not in the way he expected. Debrief with Talon typically involved reporting back to two nameless agents, not too high but not too low in the organisation. High enough up to be able to control agents. Low enough in the pecking order to be useless to Reaper’s needs. He needed Talon to trust him more. Reaper berated himself once more. Being seen hesitating to kill two targets wasn’t exactly a great way to gain access. 

The nameless agents spoke to the ingrate first. “Report.”

“Mission complete, no survivors.” Reaper waited for the ingrate to comment on his hesitation, to tell the agents exactly how he’d fucked up. The ingrate remained silent, his face impassive. Reaper felt more than saw the confusion on the two agent’s face. 

“You fired your gun, Deadeye. Twice. Shot targets Laurel Sanders and Benjamin Sanders on Crestor st, time 2300 hours. Your orders were to observe.” 

Reaper noticed the slightest flinch from the ingrate’s form. It was barely noted in the turbulence in his mind. _How did they know?_

“I got bored, the mission was practically over. Was just cleaning up stragglers, sir,” the ingrate said with disdain. 

_ We were the only assigned agents to the mission and neither of us have had time to write a report. Unless they… _

“You had all the targets tracked. You knew their every move." The words slipped from his mouth without forethought, Reaper's mind rapidly going into overdrive reevaluating the mission. He'd know it was a farce but hadn't realised the extent of it. Warring emotions of anger and fear competed for attention. Talon could have killed those rebels anytime they wanted. They could have-   
  


“Of course, they were Talon,” one agent said nonchalant, whilst turning to face Reaper. Nothing in the ingrate's expression had changed, blank except for his perfectly formulated empty smile. He knew. Had to have known. The other agent and he had not even turned to acknowledge Reaper's words. They continued to stare at each other with perfect poker faces, as if both were waiting to see who would crack first. 

“I don’t like to have my time wasted,” Reaper growled, ruthlessly suppressing his fear at what could have been. If he'd let those two go, if he'd guided them to safety...

“Neither do we Reaper. After all, we’re making quite an investment in you. Good to know it won’t be wasted.” The agent turned back towards the ingrate, that matter apparently dealt with. “You will of course need to be punished for disobeying direct orders.”

“Of course, sir.” There was no surprise on Mccree’s face. He didn't even stop smiling. Reyes' mouth was open to- he didn’t even know; defend Mccree? explain his actions? A quick side glare stopped him in his tracks and his mouth abruptly closed again. Explanations would just get them both in more trouble. Talon appreciated a level of sadism in their agents, Mccree wouldn’t be punished too harshly. He wouldn’t. 

The debrief was over quickly after that. After all there was little to report that Talon didn't already know. Mccree was commanded to report to punishment with the two agents immediately after the meeting was over. He readily agreed, tipping his hat to Reyes before turning to walk between the two agents whistling a jaunty tune. Already Reyes could see the agents struggling to remain blank and suprress their irritation. They wouldn't win that battle against Mccree. His smile had never faltered throughout the entire meeting. Not when he'd admitted to killing two people outside of mission parameters. Not when he'd been ordered to punishment. Not when the agents asked if he had anything else to report and he'd said no. 

In the week before Mccree reappeared, bruised but otherwise seemingly okay, one thought occupied Reaper’s mind.  _ Would his Jesse have killed two innocents to save his skin? _


	2. The truth is in perspective

A thick layer of dust coated the inside of the warehouse, the absence of footprints damning for their mission. Reaper restrained the urge to scream in frustration. There had been a lot of empty warehouses over the past month. Empty warehouses where instead there should have been plentiful enemies. Every mission a missed opportunity. He has a moment of guilt, thinking about the mission in terms of people to feed off.  _ Monster _ . It's just been...too long. The gnawing hunger pains never really stop anymore, in competition with the constant pain of regeneration. They’ve become more prominent, restricting the amount of thought Reaper can put towards the mission, both Talon’s and his. He needs to feed, soon. The thought that it should not have been so long adds to his growing unease. Is Talon still testing him? Testing his limits, how weak the lack of killing makes him? Perhaps calculating the ratio of man to monster? Or do they want him weak for other reasons? After all Talon assets are infinitely more loyal than Talon mercenaries. 

 

The ingrate’s continual presence does nothing to belay that nagging suspicion. For every dead end where Reaper feels his frustration and hunger grow, the ingrate seems to take the hit without flinching. Like he knows why they found nothing. Like he knew before they got there. He’d almost voiced his suspicions at the last warehouse, had let slip that either Talon’s intelligence was slacking or something was wrong. The ingrate had just laughed before asking, “Anyone ever tell you, you’re paranoid?” 

 

_ “Anyone ever tell you, you’re paranoid Gabe?” Jesse asked, curling up on Gabe’s chest. His fingers stroking gently through Gabe’s hair. And Gabe had said- _

 

Reaper had walked off without responding. Which had probably been the ingrate’s intention. Two trips later and he still hasn’t fed, still hasn’t gotten a single straight answer from the ingrate. Not that that is out of the ordinary. He hasn’t gotten a straight answer from that man since the moment they’d been introduced. Smiling from behind Jesse’s empty eyes. 

 

The ingrate comes up besides him now, looking vaguely apologetic. Reaper still isn’t sure if he’s actually capable of that emotion. “Orders are to regroup at the hotel in thirty, no stops.” Reaper closes his eyes, another pang in his stomach in response to the news. It’s not going to work but he has to-

 

“You never used to be so strict about orders. We’re finally in a big city, we could-”

 

“We cannot disobey direct orders,” said the ingrate without looking at Reaper. Just like he had the last few times Reaper had tried to conjole, threaten or otherwise convince the ingrate to disobey orders. The monotone in his voice makes Reaper's frustration compete with nausea. Another thing that had been off the past month. Every time anything contradictory to direct orders came up, the ingrate shut it down. Hard. Reaper had thought he’d gotten off with a slap on the wrist for the London debacle. Apparently it had been that and some remedial brainwashing. Reaper swore at himself under his breath. He’d tried to think of anyway he could have salvaged the situation but- every scenario made things just as bad if not worse. The only real way he could have avoided the ingrate being punished was if he hadn’t been so stupid as to hesitate to begin with. Another mistake he’s made that Mccree paid the price for. Just how many times could you fuck over the one person? Jesse was right to leave, he just didn’t run far enough.

 

The ingrate hadn’t seemed to have held a grudge though. At least as far as Reaper could tell. Jesse had a good poker face before Talon did- whatever they did to him. Maybe that’s what this is. The ingrate’s subtle revenge. Starving him out. But no, he wouldn’t dare interfere with Talon’s direct orders like that. Couldn’t. The thought made Reaper sick. He thinks he’d rather if it were personal. He’d been too complacent, too unwilling to put that faraway look in the ingrate’s eyes. A little afraid of what would happen if the ingrate’s ‘direct orders’ were contradicted. But he needs to feed. The gnawing hunger more intense than he’d felt since he woke up. He’d go back to the hotel as ordered then sneak out in the night. Hunt for the guilty. Perhaps if he’d been willing to settle for any innocent it wouldn’t have gotten this bad but he was not that far gone. Will never be that far gone. He has to believe that.  

 

He nods to the ingrate and turns to leave the empty warehouse. The ingrate relaxes slightly at his acquiesce, no longer carrying a tension that is only noticeable in its absence. He sticks close. Has done through all these trips, this wild goose chase across the midwest. Talon’s orders no doubt.

 

_ He’s not yours anymore. He’s theirs.  _

 

They get to the hotel, the ingrate organising rooms while Reaper lingers in the shadows. He needs to keep out of sight, a wraith being a bit more suspicious than a cowboy here. He tries to hide his relief at having a chance to try and pull himself together. The trek from warehouse to here had been more exhausting than anticipated. Gentle wafts of smoke are coming away from him right now and he knows he’s running out of time. Needs to hunt soon. Since they’re technically at the hotel he could just leave right now without causing any contradiction in Mccree’s orders. No sooner than he thinks that, the ingrate is there holding the keys for two adjoined rooms. Soon. He just had to make it up the stairs, be away from Mccree’s sight. He doesn’t know why it's so important that he not disappoint Mccree. His thoughts feel slow. Like he’s losing wafts of brain matter in the smoke that surrounds him. 

 

He feels Mccree’s hand on the small of his back, guiding him towards an armchair. Feels it connect more solidly when he doesn’t move at first. He- he thinks they caught the elevator up. Doesn’t recall for sure. Focus tunnel visioned on the hand on the small of his back. It’s so warm. It feels- he needs to feed. Before he kills the wrong person in his hunger. He’s not sure if he sits or falls but the chair is uncomfortable against his back. Cold. Inanimate. 

 

“You okay?” Mccree asks. It’s clearly not the first time he’s asked. The concerned tilt of his brow would be more convincing if Reaper hadn’t seen the same expression on a hundred missions. With a hundred marks. Reaper more senses than sees Mccree’s flesh-and-blood hand comes towards his shoulder. That shining lifeforce, stronger than any other Reaper has seen. He ruthlessly suppresses the urge to take. To take everything. It doesn’t matter that it’s no longer Jesse. Reaper would rather die than be the cause of Jesse Mccree’s withered husk on the floor. He shudders and flinches back from the touch.

 

Mccree seems to take the hint and disappears from Reaper’s field of view.  _ Probably to get Talon. You’ve left it too late _ . Reaper tries to ignore the thought. He’ll get up and hunt soon. He just-he just needs a moment to rest. More wafts of smoke are escaping him now. He needs to focus. To keep himself together. He blinks and somehow the minute hand of the clock has already completed half its circuit. He blinks again and it’s become dark. He’s not sure if it's because it’s nighttime or if the smoke is just obscuring his view. He needs to get up. Needs to feed on the life he can taste in the air. Needs to-  _ Too late. Too late. _ The next he registers is a quiet murmur of voices coming closer.  _ They’ve come they’ve come _ .  _ Open your eyes.  _ It’s a flickering thought, come and gone too quick for action. He feels his attention drift once more.  _ Maybe I’ll finally understand what they did to Jesse. It’s what I deserve. _

 

A hand touches his shoulder and suddenly he is awake again. He surges forward with little intent but to feed an all consuming hunger. Feels himself ripping the life force free from the body that contained it. There is screaming for a short moment, then silence. His eyes slowly focus in on the withered corpse on the floor. It takes an extra moment to register the hotel uniform.

 

“Glad I got him to touch you first boss. Looks like that might have hurt.” Reaper looks up in horror to see the ingrate a couple of paces back, for once his smile extending to his eyes. 

 

_ It could have been him _ .  _ I could have- who did I kill? _

 

“What the fuck ingrate?” Reaper says, for once not even trying to hide his feelings. He’d have to know how he was feeling to do that. Relief? Revulsion?  _ Full. _

 

“Room service Gabe, surely you’ve heard of it?” the ingrate is still smiling, extending a metal arm as if to help Reaper off the floor. Reaper ignores it in favour of looking down at the husk below him again. Just a kid.  _ Another innocent on the list _ . The bubbling anger he’s tried to suppress all month comes to the forefront now. He surges upward, limbs now solid and obeying his command.

 

“You and your bosses have been trying to stop me eating all month. Don’t fucking deny it. And now you, what? Force feed me a fucking innocent and expect me to be grateful???” 

 

“I don’t know what you’re tal-”

 

“Don’t fucking lie to me ingrate. I’m sick of your fucking lies.” He’s sick of a lot of things. Sick of the way Talon keep testing him. The way he basically lives with an echo of his former love. Sick of death and lies and having absolutely nobody he can trust. Nobody to rely on. Reaper feels a pang of homesickness, not for Los Angeles, but the people of Overwatch who had his back. They’re all dead now. Dead or broken and remade like the man in front of him. 

 

There is a look of consternation on the ingrate’s face. He looks to the corpse as well before giving Reaper a calculated look. After a moment he sighs, a decision clearly made. He turns to the stationary on a nearby desk and rummages for a pen as he continues to talk. “As I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I understand your frustration. We’ve had a few unlucky missions. It would be mighty hard to inhibit the diet of a man such as yourself. Perhaps if that man had not been so picky about what he eats there wouldn’t have been such a situation as what occurred here.” 

 

The ingrate holds up the message he’s been working on at the desk.  _ Stay furious. Bugs: fruit bowl, under the right bedside table - your room, above the window by the pot plant _

 

Reaper finds himself suddenly flat footed. Righteous anger extinguished as his mind changes tracks into mission focus.  _ Find bugs. Remove them.  _ A third directive comes to him before he even starts to move.  _ Make sure it's not Mccree’s fault _

 

“You’re lying to me. You think I don’t know Talon is watching my every move???   You think I can’t sense those fucking electronics you lay out every night???” Reaper knocks the full fruit bowl to the ground, taking some pleasure in how it shatters. It’s been a long couple of months. The little electronic device crushes easily under his boot. First bug destroyed. 

 

“I was willing to put up with some tests for the sake of taking down Overwatch, was willing to be partnered up with the likes of you but if this is how Talon treats its employees…” Second bug gone. Mccree rolls his eyes and gestures for Reaper to get on with it. Reaper takes some pleasure in watching him dodge when Reaper throws the bedside table from the bedroom to the living room. It hits the wall near Mccree’s head. He shrugs philosophically and stomps down on the remains, contributing to the general sounds of destruction.  

 

“I will have the respect I deserve! From them and from you ingrate. No more tests. No more wild goose chases. I will destroy Overwatch, with or without you!” Possibly too melodramatic but the grin on Mccree’s face is the realest he’s seen since...well a couple of months before everything went to shit. For a moment Reyes forgets the realities of their situation. It just feels too much like that time in Amsterdam where they got followed back to their hotel and had to fake a domestic and then noisy make-up sex until the men left in disgust. Well, the domestic was fake… Reaper shatters the pot plant by the window first, hoping it gives whoever is listening a headache before finally reaching for and destroying the third bug. He turns to survey the destruction of the room but the corpse on the floor destroys any fun he had been having. This isn’t Blackwatch. And the man in front of him isn’t Jesse. 

 

Mccree follows his gaze, his smile becoming strained. They stand in silence for a moment, neither really willing to break the fragile peace they had established. Surprisingly Mccree breaks it first.

 

“You probably have about twenty minutes before they come to check if you killed me Ghost. Whatever you want, better make it fast.”  _ Ghost _ . Reaper decided to ignore the pang in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it hurt more or less than the ingrate calling him Gabe. Now that they were finally alone he felt overwhelmed by the amount of things he wanted to ask. Needed to know.  _ You’re wasting time. _

 

The remains of the third bug are still crushed in his hand. He could start there. “You placed this right?” 

 

“Yes. I cannot disobey direct orders,” Mccree said formally.  Reaper fought the shudder that came with those words. What the fuck had Talon done to him?  _ Focus _ . 

 

“Right. But protecting them…” He tried to keep his words vague. Who was to say if there were more bugs that Mccree didn’t know about. Or didn’t tell Reaper about. 

 

“That’s more implied than direct.” So he only had to obey the letter not the spirit of the order. Reaper could work with that. Provided this wasn’t all orchestrated so that Mccree could earn his trust.  _ Work with what you have. Work with what you have.  _

 

“Why have Talon been trying to starve me?” Reaper asked, deciding to start with the most pressing question. 

 

“Well it just seems an awful shame somebody starving themselves through picky eating. Maybe that person just can’t be trusted with their own decisions and needs a helping hand.” 

 

_ Translation: Talon likes assets, not mercenaries. But only if they can get away with it _ . Reaper couldn’t say he was surprised. 

 

Mccree continued, “Take for instance this fella. Worried sick about the sick old skeleton in the corner. Weird a room service fella would do that, let me tell ya. He was of half a mind to go get a gurney,” Mccree kicked the corpse absent mindedly, “Don’t much matter now with you feeling better and him being dead.”

 

_ He was Talon? No, that wouldn’t-  _ If the man was Talon, then they had been planning to take him today. Probably to turn him into another asset. Mccree knew that when hungry Reaper can take a soul through touch which means if the man was Talon, Mccree must have set him up. Or if the man was just some poor smuck then Mccree must have called room service. Which would mean Reaper had killed an innocent and Mccree had still disrupted Talon’s plans. There was something missing and Reaper still felt a little too addled to put it all together. He knew better than to trust this version of Mccree’s better nature.  _ Jesse is gone. And the ingrate is a liar.  _

 

“You could have orchestrated all this yourself. In order to get me to trust you.” Reaper could swear he saw Mccree’s smile slip for a second before returning. He wasn’t sure if even the micro expression was real. 

 

_ Anyone ever tell you, you’re paranoid Gabe? _

 

“That’s not a question Gabe. And you’re running out of time,” Mccree said. He pointedly turned towards the clock. Reaper tried not to glare too hard. It was an implied question.  _ Direct orders. Direct questions _ . Reaper wasn’t sure he liked being treated like a Talon handler. No scratch that. He knew he hated it. 

 

“Just-just tell me why’d you help me?” Reaper asked. He would not let Mccree get to him.  

 

“Job security. Talon doesn’t need more assets. Widow and I do just fine.” Mccree was still staring at the clock. Reaper wasn’t sure what it meant that he could recognise one of Jesse’s old tells in the stillness. He never had before. 

 

“That might be a reason but that’s not why.” Reaper felt his teeth starting to grind involuntarily.  _ One straight answer Je-Mccree. Just one and I can leave you alone. _

 

“Oh? How can you tell?” Mccree had turned to face him, the challenge written all over his face. An unspoken “You want to play? Well fine.”

 

_I can’t. I’m guessing._ Reaper tried not to lose his patience. “Just tell me the truth. What do you get from all this? What do you want?” 

 

“I’m one of Talon’s dogs of war. We don’t want anything but Talon’s continuous prosperity,” Mccree pauses, pondering for a moment, “maybe some amusement to relieve the monotony. Luckily you’re amusing. All those contradictions. A founder of Overwatch, working for their destroyers.”

 

“I hate Overwatch. They did this to me.” Reaper remembers interrogating Jesse at 17. He’d already known how to obfuscate, dance around the damn answer and pull you where he wanted you to go. Twenty years later and he was a fucking nightmare. 

 

“Did they?” Mccree asked with a knowing tone. Reaper hated it. “Yes, much like they did this to me, I guess. I hated them too for a time. Hated you all for leaving me behind. Leaving me to my fate. But you need to be careful Reyes. You still feel. You know Talon would take that away if they could. Leave you unfeeling. Like me.” 

 

“I'm not him. I'm just his ghost.”

 

“We're all ghosts here darlin’. All liars too.” Reaper tries not to let anything show in the face of Mccree’s smirk. What the hell does he think he knows? “You may be a ghost but Gabriel Reyes: Blackwatch commander, he’s still in there. Still seeking logic where there is none. Trying to categorise people. Trying to categorise yourself. Trying to categorise me. God you’ve been trying to categorise me for years.”

 

“Not you. You’re not him.” Reaper would not believe them the same. Not after the innocents he’d seen this Mccree kill. As for himself, well. Before the explosion, before all the pain Talon and Overwatch had caused him, he liked to believe he was a good man. Once. 

 

“There you go again. I’m just Jesse, stripped to the core darlin’. And you’re just Gabe after a series of really REALLY unfortunate events. They took my feelings, not my thoughts. You think I don’t know you?” 

 

“At the core Jesse was a good man.”  _ And I am not the man you remember _ . 

 

“Nah, at your core you loved him. Which means you’ll never be able to reconcile how he became me. It’s beautiful to watch, I wouldn’t want Talon to take that away. Think of the joy you’d be depriving me of if you became their asset. I mean so much as I can still feel joy.”

 

Reyes wants to believe him, he does but- he can’t help but ask, “How can I trust you?” 

 

There was real frustration in Mccree’s eyes now. At least Reaper thought it was real. “Now who’s the damn ingrate. I’m taking a lot more risks here than you are Gabe. There could be more bugs. I could be reeducated for telling you anything. What do you risk asshole? How can you trust me? How the fuck can I trust you?”

 

He was right to be angry. He was in a lot more danger for messing with Talon’s plan than Reaper was. If he was telling the truth.  _ If _

 

“Just...Just give me one true answer. Just tell me something I can believe.”

 

Mccree gritted out a reply, “Fine. I lied to you before. When I said I’m unfeeling. Sometimes I feel angry. Feel furious. Does that count?”

 

_ At Talon? At Overwatch? At me? _ It may have been the only straight answer Reaper had ever gotten out of this Mccree and he couldn’t bring himself to ask further. Was afraid Mccree would tell him the answer. 

 

Time was running out. “So what are you going to tell them?”

 

“After the mission was a bust you got so awfully angry. Something was wrong. I called room service. Now depending on what you believe, this may or may not have been a signal to summon the nearest Talon agent. The good man Harold came to the door and I asked him to leave the food just inside. But Harold saw you were weak. Or maybe he was just a young man full of concern. Either way he put his hand on your shoulder and well you know the rest. You just got so furious that you decided to destroy all the bugs in the room. Probably something Talon will consider next time. Not that there should be a next time. I mean somebody died because you were hungry. Pretty dangerous to cause that again, don’t you think? How’d I do, could you tell when I was lying?”

 

_ No. No I couldn’t _ . “And when they ask what we talked about?”

 

“Well I tell them you tried to interrogate me on what Talon was up to and as was my way, I led you on a merry chase for answers that delivered none. They’ll believe me, I mean some of these poor suckers had to interrogate me when I was first captured and well...twenty minutes ain’t nothing on that.” 

 

_ And then what did they do to you?   _ Reaper had a million more questions and no time. He felt a distinct level of empathy for those Talon interrogators and then horror at the thought. Mccree had given him little to no straight answers after all this time. Maybe he’d forgotten how? Talon could already be listening by now. He could have just killed another innocent. Talon surely would have known not to touch him though...unless Mccree didn’t tell them. 

 

“Were you lying? I need to know,” Reaper asks in desperation knowing there is no real time left. 

 

Mccree settles down on the couch. He no longer seems angry. No longer seems much of anything. “No you don’t. You just want to. It doesn’t matter. Believe the truth you need to believe.”

 

He wants to believe in Mccree. More than anything. Wants to believe Jesse was still in there and that's why he’d been saved above any job security or amusement. Wants to believe that it wasn’t all a Talon trick for Mccree to gain his trust. But needs to believe?

 

_ “Anyone ever tell you, you’re paranoid Gabe?” Jesse asked, curling up on Gabe’s chest. His fingers stroking gently through Gabe’s hair. And Gabe had said, “It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.”  _

  
And look what happened to them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I survived exams! Thus the new chapter. Thank you for the comments and kudos so far, it means a lot to mean to me that people are reading and actually liking what I write.


	3. Beyond Emotionally Compromised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realise it has been a ridiculously long time between updates and I apologise. I had some difficulty writing this chapter and then life happened and next thing I knew its Retribution and the McReyes passion has come back in force. Thank you to anybody who is still interested in this little story and sorry. I can only promise to try and update a bit sooner next time.

Talon never said anything about that night , nor the daily surveillance sweeps Reaper had taken to performing wherever they were sent to stay. It put him on edge. Were they finally done testing him or were they just taking a different track? The first night he’d gone to perform the sweep Mccree had just given him a silent nod and gone back to what he was doing. Reaper tried not to read into it. Tried not to read into a lot of things. The question of whether he’d fed on a Talon agent or random bystander haunted him still. Either way he would have to try and be more careful. Talon didn’t seem to be actively trying to starve him again but his unnatural hunger still bothered him in the spaces between missions. And he didn’t exactly want Mccree leading anymore lambs to the slaughter. Monster or not, there were lines he had to be sure he wouldn’t cross.

 

He was certain Mccree knew what he was doing. On missions where innocents had to die Mccree tended to assign himself point without direction. Gratitude and guilt warred in Reyes heart. He’d caused enough blood on Jesse's hands.  But it was another thing they didn't discuss. Couldn't. It didn’t matter that Reaper had said nothing of his self-imposed limitation. Mccree always could read him like a book. Like now.

 

“You’re hungry again aren’t you?” Mccree asked without preamble. Reyes swore, using the windowsill for purchase in what was no doubt a controlled, not at all surprised manner. How a man could sneak in spurs he would never know. Although he was always more distractible when the hunger came. A fact Mccree no doubt knew and took advantage of. He turned, wary. Though Talon had made no efforts to starve him again that didn’t mean they wouldn’t take the opportunity if it presented itself. And it became harder and harder to remind himself that Mccree was theirs, first and foremost. No matter how concerned he seemed. 

 

“What’s it to you?” Reaper said with a huff. He tried to ignore the pointed gaze Mccree gave towards the windowsill. And the fact that his talons had somehow sunken into the wood. 

 

“Considering how bad it got last time, it’s quite a bit to me actually. Can’t I be concerned?” Mccree said, still eyeing the window. 

 

“No.” Reaper tried to subtly relax his grip. There was an audible snap of wood splintering as his talons came free. He didn’t look away from Mccree. The bastard’s eyebrows were both raised.  “What do you want?”

 

Mccree mouth seemed to open and close of its own volition as he paused for a moment before shaking his head. Luckily choosing to keep whatever comment he had to himself. When he looked back up the look of concern had returned. Reaper preferred the mocking smirk. It seemed more realistic. He started picking splinters from under his talons refusing to give Mccree much mind. At least until Mccree said, “Right, you need to find a solution to this.”

 

_ Did he mean? Seriously? _ To Reaper’s consternation he actually sounded concerned too. Which didn’t really justify the stupidity of his statement. “You think I haven’t tried? I don’t exactly enjoy needing others’ lifeforce Mccree.” He remembered the weeks after he woke up. The all consuming hunger. The attempts to ignore it. The pain and death that followed. So he had settled for only draining the lives of the guilty. At least until he threw in with Talon. A necessary evil, or so he told himself.  _ Monster _ . 

 

Mccree flinched, looking appropriately chastised. Reaper found himself staring. He couldn’t remember a time in the last few months where Mccree had actually looked apologetic. At least when not talking to a mark. The thought wasn’t a comforting one.

 

“I Know. I just- I had an idea. Thought it might be worth trying.” Hesitation also wasn’t like him. Was he- was he uncomfortable? Reaper straightened up, going into half military stance. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this conversation. Mccree somehow took his dead silence as a sign to continue.

 

“Okay so a lot of countries have myths about people who steal life force. And it’s not- well it's not always a life or death thing. So I was thinking-” Mccree was fidgeting. He never fidgets. This was going nowhere good.

 

“I’m going to stop you there. I’m not a vampire,” Reaper said dryly. If Mccree suggested he tried drinking blood he was going to laugh him right out of the room. 

 

Mccree rocked back on his heels. A fucking tell he hadn’t seen in-  _ What the fuck? _ . “I wasn’t talking about blood. More…” Mccree paused as if possibly reconsidering his words. Reaper wishes he would. “Well...sex actually,” Mccree finished in a rush.

 

“What.” Reyes said flatly. He thinks he would be more angry if he wasn’t so flabbergasted. What the hell was Mccree on? He must be joking. He had to be.

 

“Okay well it sort of makes sense. People in pain, people dying, they’ve lost all control. People usually grip onto their life energy so tight that when you exert the energy to yank at it, it all comes away at once. Which makes...well even voluntary sharing, it would be hard to force that sort of thing. But if the person loses enough control- I mean there is a reason the French call it the small death.” Mccree finished, flustered. His cheek’s had taken a distinctive shade of pink. 

 

“You can’t be serious! None of that makes sense!” The incredulity was slowly giving way to anger now. 

“Look I’m not fucking with you,” Mccree said opening his arms as if to reveal every tell. Like Reyes would believe him. The ingrate is a liar.

 

“No? Well then who's the lucky soul,” Reyes said with a sneer. “Who’s volunteering to have sex with a monster? How are you going to sell it? Hey you can have sex with a monster and if you’re very lucky you might not die screaming?”

 

The shade of pink deepened on Mccree’s face. “Well I-”

 

“No.” This had to be a joke. Had to be. Because the alternative was Mccree asking him to- 

 

Reyes turned to walk back to his room with every intent of slamming the door in Mccree’s face. How dare he joke about fixing this. How dare he use their past relationship to do so. He tried to ignore the little part of him that would be tempted if the offer was real. Because it wasn’t. Mccree had just clearly upgraded from snide remarks to practical jokes. Besides, attempting non-lethal feeding had always ended badly in the past. He wouldn’t be the cause of Mccree’s corpse. No matter what sort of monster he was now.

 

A metal hand stopped his progress before he’d taken more than a couple of steps. He turned back to- yell? Ask what the fuck Mccree was up to? Punch him in his stupid empty face? Either way he was stopped by the Mccree’s expression. 

 

“Look I’m sorry. What I meant to say...it didn’t come out right. I’m not fucking with you though. I promise. I mean I might like you to fuck with me but...” Mccree looked sincere. Serious. But the ingrate was an excellent liar. Reyes shrugged off his arm but was unwilling to quite look away. Without the dead smile he looked more like his Jesse.  _ It’s not him. He’s not yours anymore _ . 

 

“Say you’re being honest. You want to fuck me so I can feed? I’m not going to facilitate your death wish.” Mccree looked away, as if unwilling to meet the intensity of Reyes’ gaze. His posture straightened as he looked up once more. 

 

“That's not what this is. I don’t think you would kill me,” Mccree said before giving a disgruntled sigh at the expression on Reyes’ face. “And it's not pity either, before you start. I just- look we used to have fun right?”

 

_ We used to be in love _ . It was on the tip of his tongue. Stepping back, sleeping with this Mccree, well mistake would be an understatement. He was beyond emotionally compromised already. But- God he missed him.  _ Focus _ . This was still a terrible idea. “Gabriel Reyes and Jesse Mccree used to have fun. We’re not them.”

 

There was a flash of anger, gone so quickly Reyes wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. “Tomato, Tomato.”

 

“You just said the same thing.”

 

“Yes. Look we had fun, there is no reason to deprive ourselves  just ‘cause of a couple of years and few small changes. You don’t have to feed if you don’t want to...but if you decide to, well then I’m open to it. You’d only need to take a little bit. Just to tide you over. There is no need to make this complicated darlin’.”  _ A couple of changes. Like you losing all sense of self and I becoming a dead man walking. Right. _ Despite himself, Reyes was tempted. Mccree could see it too. He smiled and his flesh-and-blood hand came up to stroke Reyes’ cheek. Reyes couldn’t help but lean into the touch. It had been...so long. He didn’t need to feed but he could just...have this.  _ This is a mistake. He’s theirs not yours. _

 

Mccree’s hand travelled down his neck to start fiddling with the buckles of his armour. “Come on darlin’, you know I’ll make it worth your while. I could pretend to be him if you’d prefer?” 

 

Reyes flinched. There was no need to define the  _ him _ . He could handle the taunts, the missions, the facsimile of the man he loved but- he thinks if Mccree was to pretend to be his Jesse. That would break him. There was no hiding his reaction. He hopes Mccree won’t use it against him. He doubts that he won’t.  _ This is a mistake _ .

 

“Just- just be you?” Reyes asked, hoping the quiet plea isn’t quite as obvious as it sounds to him. Something in Mccree’s eyes seems to settle and his smile feels more real. He returns to the buckles, undoing the third with a quiet click. 

 

“I can do that darlin’. Any other ground rules you’d like to set. I wouldn’t mind tying you up a little. Just in case you do decide to feed and get a little frisky. Safety first and all.” Discarding the top armour, Mccree began to push Reyes back towards his room, pausing only to grab a small bag by the side of the couch.  _ Of course he planned this _ .

 

“If I got ‘frisky’, do you really think rope could stop me?” Reyes asked, genuinely curious. Not that he had any intention of feeding. He wondered for a moment if he was taking advantage of Mccree’s good will, if Mccree was only doing this because he wanted his partner well fed. Or because Talon had- No. He dismissed the thought out of hand. Mccree seemed sincere. And Talon wouldn’t risk their asset like that. He had to believe that. Still…

 

Unaware of the track Reyes’ thoughts had gone down, Mccree had already begun to untangle the rope in the bag. “You know you don’t control your form that well when you’re hungry. If you turned to gas, it would probably take you a little while to become solid again. I guess I’ll just have to trust you to have gained control by the time that happens. Pretty much the ultimate safeword anyhow.” He hummed, seemingly buzzing with energy as he turned back to Reyes before stilling. Reyes doesn’t know what his face is doing. “What is...we don’t have to use rope if you don’t want?”

 

“No...the rope is- it’s fine,” Reyes said hurriedly. Mccree was happy. Talon wouldn’t have put him up to this. They wouldn’t have. “I- are you sure you want this?” He can’t help but ask. There is no mirror in his room but he knows what he looks like. Face a mess of scars, eyes hollowed out darkness. Not even mentioning the constant state of flux that led to bits of flesh occasionally dissolving into smoke. Why would Mccree want him now? 

 

In what feels like the space of a blink, Mccree crossed the room between them. He takes Reyes face in both hands, trapping Reyes’ eyes with his own. “Darlin’ I promise you I want this. Understand it's been a long while since I’ve had a little fun.” His eyes turn downwards, taking Reyes in.  “A bit longer since I’ve had anything bigger than a little,” He says with a smirk, meeting Reyes’ eyes once more. “Let me look after you?” It’s more gentle than Reyes has heard Mccree in a long time. He wants to believe it's real. Reyes takes a deep breath and nods. The risk is worth it for the smile that graces Mccree’s face as he shoves Reyes backwards towards the bed. _Beyond emotionally compromised. You’re truly fucked now._

 

“So tell me, those clothes...on a scale of 1-10, just how emotionally attached are you? Cause I don’t rightly know how many buckles you got there and I have a perfectly serviceable knife right here.” Reyes thought for a moment then shrugged philosophically and finished undoing the chest armour before settling back on the bed. He’d shucked his boots, coat and weapons earlier; the rest was pretty much expendable. Normally he could just wraith out but Mccree had been right when he said that Reyes often had trouble with his wraith form when hungry. Mccree knew a lot of his weaknesses now. A worrying thought for another time. The rest of the clothes he could reform later. Once he’d gone out and eaten his fill. And wasn’t trying to seem slightly less freakish to Mccree. Although that was likely a lost cause at this point.  _ He wants this _ . Reyes had to believe that.

 

Mccree came over to the bed now making no attempt to conceal his leer. “Gonna make me do all the work I see.” He slowly slips each hand from their taloned gloves and kisses them gently before placing both above Reyes head. Reyes tried to relax, focusing on the feeling of nylon slowly wrap snugly around his wrists. It was a more soothing feeling than he would like to admit. It had been a long time since anybody had taken care of him. Since-

 

The rope pulls taut, bringing him back to the present.  _ This is a mistake. _ He pulls on the bindings  to test the give. A little uncomfortable but no pain. He’s not sure if he’s disappointed or not. A little pain might help make this less...surreal. Less familiar.

Ignoring the undoubtable ghastly sight of his broken cheek Mccree kisses on the edge of being too rough. Reyes gives himself over to the sensation, Mccree’s warmth almost burning his cold skin. When Mccree pulls back finally satisfied, he breathes out a long plume of black smoke. He then turns his attention to Reyes’ neck, gently nipping until he reaches the flesh between shoulder and neck, biting as if to claim him. Straddling Reyes’ legs, he pulls a knife and goes to carefully cut away at the cloth that lies between him and Reyes’ body. 

 

_ He leans up into Jesse’s kiss. At the last moment Jesse smiles and purposely dodges his mouth, lightly peppering kisses along the line of his jaw and down his neck. Feeling playful, he gently nips at Gabe’s collarbone. Gabe jerks a little, already feeling too worked up. It’s okay darlin’, I’m gonna take care of you.  _ Reyes flinches as the knife knicks his chest. “Oops,” Mccree says with no sincerity. He’s still smiling but there is something darker there now.  Maintaining eye contact Mccree leans down to suck at the small wound not deigning to look even as the knife edge travels down further. His eyes daring Reyes to comment. Lifting from the cut Mccree takes a couple of licks of the hard nipple next to it before shuffling back to give himself greater access. 

 

Reyes finds himself glad for the dim lighting. His chest is a mess to look at, all scars and disintegrating skin. Mccree doesn’t seem to notice, hands following the path of the knife almost reverently. He finds himself shivering, not from the cold of the knife, but the warmth of Mccree’s hand in contrast to his own cool skin. Mccree moves further down the bed and nudges at Reyes thighs in quiet expectation. Reyes spreads his legs obediently allowing Mccree to settle between them. Careful lines are cut down his thigh now and Reyes can’t help but pull against his bonds in anticipation. Nor can he help the soft moan that escapes as Mccree’s hot breath ghosts over his groin.

 

Satisfied at last, the knife is set aside before Mccree happily peels fabric back to expose thigh and groin, like opening a Christmas present. Lips edge near Reyes’ now half-erect cock before veering sideward to mouth at his thigh. The feeling of Mccree needling the flesh to leave a lasting indent sends a rush of heat directly to his neglected cock. He pulls on the rope above him, letting out a low moan, when Mccree kisses the area gently then moves to the other side. The urge to grab Mccree and push him towards his cock competes with the need to touch just for the sake of touching. He can’t do either. Mccree massages at the bites he’s left behind even as he gently kisses his way up to the crease. Every kiss builds tension in his muscles as Reyes struggles to hold still. 

 

There is a drawn out pause as Mccree stops to stare at his cock, like a tactician planning his next move. Reyes has to fight the urge to rush him. It’s been so long. He smothers a relieved moan when Mccree gives an exploratory lick of the tip before stroking his right hand up and down his length languidly. “J-Mccree...please,” Reyes can’t help but beg. It’s too little after too long. His whole body tensed in an effort not to move. 

“Just admiring the sites,” Mccree says with a smile, repositioning so his elbows sit on Reyes thighs. He blows Reyes a kiss before using his mouth to swallow down on half of Reyes girth. Reyes can’t help an unintelligible garble as he automatically attempts to thrust into the air, held down by Mccree’s forearms pressing hard on his hips and thighs. He holds there for a couple of moments before coming back up to suckle at the tip. He keeps a slow pace, each time sinking further down Reyes’ cock and only coming up for air. The headboard groans as he janks on his restraints, unable to thrust up into the warmth of Mccree’s mouth. It’s too much after a long time of so little and he feels himself losing control. 

 

“Mccree! I-” Mccree pulls off with a long pop, gentling the hips that attempt to follow him up. Gabe gives a low growl of frustration as the saliva cools, Mccree cooing softly as strokes along a trembling thigh.

 

“Easy Gabe, easy. Not ready for this to be over just yet.” Mccree gives a mocking smile. “Your last partner must have been a bit too easy on you. With me, I’m afraid you’ll have to work for it.” 

 

Ignoring Gabe’s betrayed hiss, he gets up slowly and starts taking off his clothes. Chest now exposed, Reyes could now barely see a multitude of scars. Far more than he'd had in Blackwatch. Maybe he wasn't the only one happier with the light off. Reyes’ breathing has slowed slightly as Mccree goes to step out of his pants. Any loss of arousal rekindled by the site of Mccree half-mast as he returns to the bed. 

 

“Ready for round 2?” Mccree says, dropping a bottle of lube on the bed. Back on the bed, he warms some on his hands before taking Reyes cock in hand and lubing him up with long strokes. Reyes can’t help but jump a little off the bed with the cold and sudden stimulation. Concern overtakes frustration by a little when Mccree immediately straddles him. 

 

“Not that I’m not eager,” Reyes says, pulling on his hands for emphasis, “But shouldn’t you prep yourself first?”

 

“Aww that’s sweet, you worried about me?” Mccree coos. “Don’t worry about little old me darlin’, I prepped myself earlier. I’ve had intentions towards this cock for a little while now.” He reaches behind himself and gives Reyes’ cock one long stroke, seemingly enjoying the way Reyes shifted underneath him. 

 

_ He planned this _ . He’d known Mccree had the rope ready but- “Just how confident were you that I’d say yes?” Reyes asks incredulously. 

 

“I know you. Knew you wouldn’t turn down a chance to have sex with his ghost,” The real smile from earlier is gone now, something brittle in its place. Reyes wants to reach to him. Wants to say- he doesn’t know. 

 

“Mccree-” Reyes starts before he feels Mccree’s fingers at his lips. He seems fine now. Like Reyes imagined the change. It’s disquieting and Reyes feels some of his earlier misgiving come to the forefront.  _ You were forgetting who you were with again. He’s not yours. _

 

“Shh. We’re having fun, let’s not ruin it. Buckle up darlin’.” Lips replace fingers. Mccree surges into the kiss swallowing any words. Breathless, Reyes is ashamed to admit the distraction has worked.  _ Beyond emotionally compromised _ . As if sensing Reyes surrender, Mccree pulls away with one last gentle kiss; nothing like the intensity of before. Then he reaches behind to guide Reyes cock into his entrance. 

 

Mccree winces slightly as he sinks down slowly along the girth of Reyes cock. Reyes worries at his lip and says nothing. Jesse had always been impatient and Mccree wouldn’t appreciate the concern. He can’t help but still pull slightly on his restraints, compelled by the urge to reach for him like he once would have. Mccree’s contented sigh when he is almost fully seated at the hilt does much to allay the concern. As does the distraction that comes with it. 

 

Any edge taken off his lust had been undone by the delicious heat of Mccree’s ass around him He felt like he was at the precipice once more, his once tight control weakened from abstinence and the warmth of Mccree’s presence. Even this version of him. Even with that damn trademark mocking grin smiling down at him. He doesn’t know how long Mccree wants to drag this out. Any hope of a quick ride undone by that smile. 

 

The pace Mccree sets is excruciatingly slow. With every downward thrust he sinks deep to accept Reyes’ entire length before lifting almost to the tip. It’s not enough, the torturous pace not giving him the friction he needs. Any attempt to thrust is answered by Mccree halting all movement and waiting him out. Despite this he feel a low heat gathering at the base of his cock, feels himself losing control. He’s of half a mind to try not and bring Mccree’s attention to it and just give himself over to the desperate need that has been building. Something must give him away because he soons find his hips chasing Mccree as he pulls away.  Torn between frustration and desperation, Reyes lets out a noise somewhere between a groan and a scream through gritted teeth. The urge to pull himself out of his bindings, to finally give himself what he needs is overpowering. If he could just free his arms-

 

The feeling of nails biting into skin bring him back. Mccree is looking down at him, still straddling his torso. “You wraith out now, how long is it going to take for you to pull yourself together?” For all that his words are teasing, there is something darker behind his eyes. Reyes pulls on the ropes with reckless abandon now, snarling at the face above him. 

 

“How long do you plan to keep this up Mccree? What exactly do you want from this??” He could feel the skin at his wrists tearing a little, the sharp pain at least bringing him back from the haze he was in. 

 

“You still haven’t fed yet,” Mccree says mildly. Reyes stills, the fight for the moment gone from him.  _ That fucker. _

 

“You know I had no intention of doing that.” Had this been his game the whole time? Get him worked up so he would feed. For what? Altruism didn’t suit him. Reyes couldn’t help the darker turn his thoughts took. There was something a lot of Talon assets wanted. And were forbidden from doing themselves. 

 

“Oh I knew. Doesn’t mean you don’t need to. Doesn’t mean you’re not going to.” Any trace of smile was gone now, Mccree’s whole body gone tense. Reyes kept studying his face, hoping for some sort of clue. But there is nothing. 

 

“You’re that eager to die,” Reyes says resigned. 

 

“No.” Mccree crosses his arms, previous activities seemingly forgotten now. “You know I can’t do that anyway.” Reyes knew that Talon ordered its assets not to kill themselves. He didn’t know what the exact orders were. Didn’t know the exploits in the wording that Mccree had no doubt already found. 

 

“I know a lot of things. Like how easily you’ve circumvented orders in the past.” He had wanted to believe- well it doesn’t matter now.

 

At least Mccree seemed frustrated now. It was better than the careful blankness of before. “I told you before Gabe, I’m not trying to die. I don’t believe you would kill me.”

 

“Forgive me if I don't believe you,” Reyes sneers. How could Mccree believe he wouldn’t kill him? After what happened in the hotel? After all the husks he’d left behind??

 

“Gabe, I wouldn’t do that to-”

 

“You’ve seen how easy it is for me to kill! What was your plan here? Deny me long enough that I lose control enough to feed on you but still have enough control to stop??? That’s a Goddamn shitty plan. Why- if you don’t want to die, why the fuck would you try this bullshit? And don’t give me that crap about compet-”

 

“Because you’re not leaving me here alone again!” Mccree yells, fingernails drawing blood as he tightens his grip. For a moment there is no sound in the room, the outburst shocking them both to silence. Reyes can’t help but stare, cataloguing the changes as Mccree’s face contorts in an attempt to smother the fire that is there. His usual blank mask doesn’t come easy now. He starts again, almost whispering but no less furious. 

 

“You think you can just keep ignoring your needs, almost dying from starvation over and over again ‘cause you’re too damn moral or stubborn or stupid to take what you need when you can get it? You think it's not going to catch up to you, that our enemies won’t get a lucky shot while you’re weak, that our allies won’t take you and improve you into a new version of yourself, nothing like the old? Well guess what, I’m not going to let you. You’re not going to leave me alone here Gabe. Not again. And I’ll call room service. I will force feed you a hundred innocent souls if I have to. Or, you can fucking feed now.” 

 

Gabe watches as Mccree pants and tries to regain control of himself. Like throwing a blanket on a forest fire. Gabe can empathise with the loss of control. His vocal cords feel paralysed, his brain unwilling to comprehend the situation. For the first time in what feels like forever, he’s not questioning the sincerity of Mccree’s words, his emotions. He doesn’t doubt that Mccree is furious. But the ‘why’ of it all is the problem. If he believes that Mccree cares in some form or another…  _ Beyond emotionally compromised _ . 

 

Mask back in place, Mccree seems deflated now. He looks mournful at Gabe’s wilted erection. “Damnit. Now I’ve ruined the mood.” He sighs deeply before reaching to release the rope from the headboard. When the rope goes slack, Reyes makes a split-second decision to surge upwards and reach for Mccree’s lips with his own. He feels the lips go slack against his for a moment before Mccree returns the kiss, following Reyes down as he falls back to the bed. 

 

Reyes breaks away for a moment, breathes “I could kill you” into the space between them. 

 

“You won’t. I promise you I’m not trying to die. I wouldn’t make you kill me.” They’re still close enough that Reyes can feel his smile against him. Can’t help but lean into the touch as Mccree strokes his cheek gently, ignoring the smoke that comes off in his hand. “I just want you to live.”

 

Reyes leans up to kiss him again. He ignores the burn in his abs as they explore each other, like new again. He- he can try.  _ Just a little bit _ .  _ Just a little bit _ . When he pulls away Mccree is breathless above him, caught between shock and satisfaction. Reyes feels a little shocked himself. The sting of the cut on his chest has stopped and he knows without looking that the wound has closed. He waits for Mccree’s breath to settle before surging upwards once more.  _ Just a little bit. Just a little bit _ . When they next break for breath his hands slip easily from the bindings and reform to help Reyes flip Mccree onto his back.

 

Mccree is smiling up at him beatific. “If you wanted to be on top you could have just asked.”

 

Mccree opens his mouth to speak once more but Gabe silences him with several firm strokes of his cock to bring him back to erect. Persistent as he is, he still stutters out, “Guess I didn’t destroy the mood after all. You know-” Reyes can’t help but reach down to silence the words with his mouth stopping only once satisfied he’d made Mccree too breathless to talk. Mccree is still open from before, allowing Reyes to slip back in with one easy long thrust. Mccree huffs a little before looking up with a twinkle in his eyes. “Is that all you’ve got?”

 

He gives Mccree a vicious grin before setting a punishing pace, finally letting himself get lost in the want, sating the need from before. Each thrust causes Mccree’s own swollen cock to bounce and Reyes delights in seeing Mccree like this, red-faced, breathless, as out of control as he feels. Despite the interlude Reyes knows it won’t take him long to reach completion. Mccree lets out a long drawn out moan as Reyes fumbles between them for Mccree’s cock, every motion driving Mccree’s cock into Reyes hand. Legs come to wind around his waist, letting him thrust even deeper still. There a low heat building now that he couldn’t suppress even if he wanted to.

 

Reyes finds himself moaning Mccree’s name as he comes, Mccree following shortly after. He stays inside a moment longer, just enjoying that this Mccree looks peaceful and happy for once. Reyes slips out, still content to look down at Mccree. He remembers many a night where he hovered over Mccree after they were done, trying to commit his face to memory. He tries to remembers the last time he looked down at Jesse like-

 

_ “Gabe? Gabe please.” There are tears in Jesse's eyes. He weakly thrashes against the hands at his throat, his arms clawing futilely before complete surrender. “Gabe this isn't you.” Gabriel looks at his own hands in horror. He can't let go. Why can't he- “Gabe?” _

 

“Gabe? Are you alright? Thought I lost you there for a moment?” Reyes scrambles off him still caught in- whatever that was. 

 

“Did I hurt you?” Reyes asks desperately. He's not sure if he’s asking about today or whatever it was he'd just remembered. Imagined. He would never have-

 

“I’m just fine darlin’. I knew you could do it.” Mccree is looking at him quizzically. Reyes doesn’t want to know what he looks like right now. Hopefully not as wrong footed as he feels. What was he thinking? He could have hurt him. Could have killed him.  _ Did I hurt him before? _

 

“You planned this. You waited until I was hungry. Until I-”  _ Until I lost control.  _

 

“Of course. A little loss of control. A voluntary subject. I did research you know. I wasn’t lying,” Mccree said blatantly unapologetic.  _ You’re always lying _ , Reyes wants to spit out. Wants to spit out a hundred accusations. He doesn’t really know why he feels so angry. Mccree was right. He feels stronger now, not as strong as he usually would but enough to tide him over. He also feels like there is something buzzing under his skin.

 

“You weren’t- you didn’t lose control.” The  _ we didn’t need to have sex for this  _ goes unsaid. 

 

“Well...no. But why deprive ourselves right? Besides you wouldn’t have done it otherwise. And you look better. Don’t you feel better? You’re happy. I’m happy. Why destroy the afterglow?” And Mccree is still proud. Still smug. As if Reyes couldn’t have sucked the life out of him in a moment. 

 

“You could have died.” His hands feel dirty. He can’t help but study them searching for a hint of red. There is something still crawling under his skin. 

 

“I didn’t though,” Mccree said with a self-satisfied smirk. If he’s aware of Reyes discomfort he doesn’t show it. 

 

“You shouldn’t have pushed.” He does his best to swallow around the lump in his throat and stay with the conversation at hand. There is nothing on his hands. He didn’t- he wouldn’t have hurt Mccree. He never would have hurt Jesse. 

  
  
  
  
  


“Try not to be an ingrate old man. Now settle back down will ya?” Mccree seems content to lay beside him, seemingly at ease, but Reyes can't stop his mind from racing. Thinking about what could have happened. Why did he see himself hurting Jesse. His memory of the last two years of Overwatch are a jumbled mess, a consequence of his shitty resurrection he'd thought. But he would have remembered something like that happening. Right?

 

His thoughts turn to the marks he saw on Mccree’s chest. Scars he didn’t remember. Would he have remembered? He doesn’t know how Mccree lost his arm. Doesn’t know where half the scars came from. He thought they were- but could he know? He can’t help the spike in heart rate at the thought. He didn’t know where they come. Didn’t know if-

 

He reaches over to run his hands up and down Mccree’s chest with faux casualness. Judging by the way Mccree’s muscles tense under his hand, he doesn’t do a very good job of pretending. The scars are ugly puckered things but neat. Like they were put there with surgical precision. Reyes feels sick at the thought. 

 

“What happened?” The question slips out before Reyes is conscious of asking it. A part of him wishes he could take it back. The rest of him knows he wouldn’t.

 

Mccree’s hand snaps up to hold Reyes’ wrist tight. He turns, but chooses to say nothing. His look says it all.  _ Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.  _

 

Reyes knows he should back off. Should try and enjoy time with a Mccree that doesn’t seem to hate him. But the need to know is overpowering. “Widowmaker doesn’t- I mean I’ve never seen-”

 

“Oh, you’ve looked have you?” Jesse said with a leer, the smile never reaching his eyes. “Do you make a habit of getting up close and personal with all the Talon assets?” 

 

“Mccree!” Gabriel said sharply. Mccree drops the leer. And all other expression from his face. A blank slate once more. When he starts again his voice is quiet. Longing. 

 

“Amelie was a civilian. She wasn't trained to withstand torture.” 

 

“I thought- I thought Talon didn't need to-”  _ I thought Talon could scoop you out without touching the body. _

 

Mccree looks at Reyes knowingly. “They don't always. Manipulating emotions, memory. Maybe planting a trigger or two. Well that doesn't require much. But to have a proper asset, one loyal only to Talon...well they gotta break you first.”

 

“And if they don’t?” Reyes tries not to feel hope. Maybe Jesse is still in there. Maybe he-

 

Mccree gives a sardonic grin. “How would I know?  All my family and friends were dead or missing. I knew there wasn't anybody coming for me. You think I had anything to hold onto?”

 

The bite is back in his voice, the face of the ingrate once more. Reyes cant help a searching look even as his hopes sink. 

 

“Don't strain your eyes looking for something that ain't there. Nothing but the desert in me.” Mccree sits up, no longer willing to entertain the conversation. He gathers his clothes as Reyes sits in silence, the cold sharper in the absence of a body beside him. He wants to ask Mccree to stay. Has always wanted him to stay. But the words were hard enough to find in Blackwatch. Never mind the mess they’re in now.  

 

“You really know how to destroy the afterglow, boss. We leave at five tomorrow. Get some sleep.” 

  
_ You care about me. _ An accusation Reyes doesn’t dare speak as Mccree leaves. Unspoken it cannot be refuted.  _ Beyond emotionally compromised. This was a mistake. _


	4. Fractured memories

“You’re a monster Reaper. Somebody needs to put you down.”

 

Reyes snarled in frustration, just barely managing to avoid the following helix rocket. This was meant to be a simple snatch and grab. To the extent that Reyes had told Mccree to wait in reserve. All he needed to do is wraith in, knock some guards unconscious and grab the data before it was moved again. Easy. At least it should have been. Reforming behind a car, Reyes had to admit the presence of Soldier: 76 had complicated matters.  

 

“That was a close one, huh? Almost looks like you could use some backup Gabe,” Mccree snarked over comms.

 

“Shut up.” Options. He needed options. Now that the stealth of the mission was fully compromised he would have to move fast. The longer he was stalled out front, the more likely they would move the data. Talon didn’t tolerate failure. Jack had been fighting smart, keeping him at a distance and throwing helix rockets when it looks like Reaper might make his way into a building but he had to be running out of ammunition soon. Right? _You don’t have time._

 

*squeak* *squeak*

 

Reyes found his teeth grinding together. At least Mccree was having a good time. Reyes may have offended him by suggesting he wait in the transport. There was no other explanation for how he’d managed to find the one chair squeaky enough to be heard through comms. He knew Mccree was ready to fight, particularly since the revelation that it was Jack Morrison at their six. Reyes couldn’t help but silently curse at himself for letting that little fact slip. He found himself slipping more often around Mccree. Forgetting just who employed them both. He couldn’t let it keep happening. Who knows how much Talon had already gleaned. Mccree knew him too well. Knew how to manipulate him into giving away more than he should. Like the fact that the former Strike Commander was alive. _Alive and a current pain in the ass_ , Reyes thought, his entrance to the building once again cut off by a hail of bullets.  

 

He hadn’t intended to fight Jack again. Not since the disastrous events of Anubis. He’d almost killed him then. Had almost killed his best friend. He knew he’d always felt some level of betrayal from Jack, at least that he could remember but he had never quite experienced anything like what he that night. It was like a haze had come over his mind. His pain, his suffering; he’d been so sure in that moment that everything he’d suffered was Jack’s fault. He hadn’t been so certain of anything since. He’d lost control that day, barely stopped himself from killing someone who was once family to him. He couldn’t afford to let that happen again. Couldn’t afford to let his rage overcome his reason. He was in control. Not that Jack or Mccree were making that particularly easy.

 

“He thinks my tractor’s sexy. It really turns him on. He’s always starin’ at me, while I’m chuggin’ along.” Mccree was singing to himself. That fucker. Did he even know what a tractor was?

 

“Can you stop that?”

 

“Just keeping myself entertained while cooling my heels over here Boss. Of course you could always solve that particular problem for me.”

 

Mccree was getting impatient. Always a bad sign. He tried to think through the conflicting emotions that Jack’s presence seemed to cause. He was better than this. Better than this lack of control. If he wanted to beat Jack then he would have to get closer. But then he ran the risk of killing him. Shotguns aren’t known for their non-lethality and Talon would question why he didn’t just end it then. Not to mention he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop once he got started. There was something wrong. He loved Jack, he didn’t want to- _Feed. Destroy. It’s his fault_. The anger felt like a tangible thing, he didn’t know why-

 

“Give it up Reaper. Slink back to whatever hole in the ground you crawled out of.”

 

“Times running out Gabe. Make your choice,” Mccree said over the comms, the lack of emotion in direct contrast to his previous cheery tone.

 

_Fuck._ He could ignore Jack’s taunt but not Mccree. Not when he spoke as Talon’s asset. _Talon doesn’t tolerate failure. Kill him before I do it for you._ Mccree so rarely sounded like Talon’s asset these days. He made it easy to forget. A dangerous mistake. While Reyes hoped it meant Mccree was more himself it could just as easily mean he was just getting better at fooling him. At the moment it doesn’t matter. He was out of time.

 

Reyes did a quick mental calculation. He knew both men’s capabilities. Knew that they would probably be evenly matched in a gunfight. Would Jack hesitate to kill Mccree if the opportunity arose? They hadn’t particularly liked each other in Overwatch but there had been a mutual respect. Would Mccree hesitate to kill Morrison? No, whatever Jesse had felt towards him in Overwatch, Mccree loathed him now. He’d made that clear when he found out Jack was still alive. When he’d gone still and a red glint manifested in his eye. This would go poorly. But there was no other way. He was out of time. And Jack is a supersoldier. He could take it.

 

_Just in and out. Get in fast, get the objective and leave before they can do any damage to each other_.

 

“Fine. Mccree you’re up. But distraction only you hear me?”

 

“Death is plenty distracting.”

 

“Mccree!”

 

“I hear ya pumpkin.”

 

Yeah, this wouldn’t be a mistake at all. “He’s mine to kill Mccree,” Reyes said, ignoring how right the words feel. Not now. Stick to the mission.

 

“Understood boss.” Reyes wasn’t sure if he believed him but there was no time to argue. He’d just have to move fast enough that it wasn’t an issue. He counts back from twenty before making a break for the door. Soldier turns as if to stop him and at the last moment flinches for cover instead. A bullet bounces off where his head had been a second before. Reyes shoots a quick glare in Mccree’s direction before wraithing inside the building.

 

“Sorry Jackie. Seems you have a new dance partner.”

 

“Mccree. Should have known you’d join Talon too. Once a no-good punk…”

 

Jack’s voice fades from hearing as Reyes moves inward. There was one guard on high alert, frantically whispering over a walkie talkie. His gun trembles in his hand. Reyes doesn’t spare a second for regret as his nanites swarm around the man and draw the breath from his throat. He materialises just enough to knock the man out with the butt of his shotgun and moves on. He doesn’t have enough time.

 

“Thats funny coming from you. After all it’s your fault we’re all here. Tell me Jack, when did you figure out I was right? Was it when the building came down on you? Did it finally knock a brain cell loose?

 

_Of course Mccree was going to taunt him_. Reyes swept into the vents just before a patrol passed. He kept one ear out for other patrols, the other desperately straining to hear the Soldier’s indistinct reply.

 

The click of the device arming itself was followed almost immediately by the sounds of boots funneling in his general direction. It would take a minute to burn through the door. Plenty of time to deal with the guards surrounding him. Plenty of time for Mccree and Jack to kill each other. He sighs as one of the guards prodded him with his rifle. This was supposed to be a simple snatch and grab. Fucking Jack Morrison.

 

“Come on Jack, who’s the real monster here? I won’t talk about how many men and women of Overwatch you got killed for your pride. We all knew you never cared about us grunts. Particularly not from Blackwatch. But the people you did pretend to care about? Poor Gabe, you know he’s in pain all the time. He’s in agony. Barely rests. To think he trusted you to have his back. We all did. Jack Morrison, hero of the omnic crisis. But you weren't the hero were you. Just a political puppet. You took the glory and left the real hero to rot. Left him to die. And then you didn’t even have the nerve to die with him. Just let him get smeared into the dirt as you ran away with your tail between your legs.”

 

Jack’s reply is loud enough Reyes can hear it. Looks like Mccree succeeded in riling him up. The grunt of pain in the aftermath makes Reyes stop breathing for a moment. The guards are no longer important. He doesn’t have time. Thirty seconds later and he feels full. More full than he’d felt since Mccree and him had learnt the trick of only taking a little off the top. Maybe Morrison was right. He really was a monster. He can’t bring himself to care. Not until he hears Mccree speak again. It is only then that he can let go off the breath he was holding.

 

“Strike a nerve did I? This is your fault Commander. Everything that has happened is your fault. You should have listened to me.” The sudden coldness in Mccree’s voice sends a shiver down his spine. Data secured, he calls to the dropship for immediate evac. It was time to get the hell out of here. The gunfire as he made his way out of the building did nothing to soothe his panic.

 

He comes outside to a scene of his nightmares. Jack in the open, leaning against one of the cars in the street. Red leaks from his leg, reflecting the dim street light. Gabriel doesn’t know why he isn’t moving. Wants to scream to him to get to cover. There is something accepting in the way he is slumped. Mccree stands opposite him, his mechanical arm half gone and sparking. He glows and Reyes knows with certainty that he won’t make it in time to stop him. That Jack will be dead.

 

“Mccree!” Reyes yells in desperation. He reaches for him knowing he’ll be too late. He sees Jack turn towards him in resignation. Feels more than sees Mccree notice him and shift focus. The shot hits Jack’s shoulder. His cry of pain is a relief for Reyes who more than expected to be burying another victim with a pretty little hole between his eyes. He doesn’t stop moving, grabbing Mccree and wraithing. Doesn’t turn around when Soldier 76 yells that he will stop them. That they will face justice for their crimes.

 

They sit together on the transport, Mccree methodically testing each finger on his mechanical arm. There is a chunk missing from the wrist and only the thumb and index finger have full motion. Reyes himself, feels in turmoil. Mccree could have killed Jack. Wanted to. And there was a part of him that wanted Jack dead too. Wanted to feed off him. And Reyes wasn’t sure how long it had been there, didn’t know where it came from. Mccree said he warned him. Warned him about what? He was in Talon to work out what the hell had happened to Overwatch. To find those responsible. But with so many bits and pieces missing, it was hard to know where to start.  

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Reyes was still brooding when they made it to their accomodation for the night. Another dodgy hotel in the middle of nowhere. Reyes goes through the bug sweep on rote. His memories were fractured from before the fall. He remembers Venice. Remembers an investigation into moles in Overwatch. Remembers Gerard’s death. Remembers fighting with Jack. Remembers loving Mccree.

 

Mccree. He knew something. Knew lots of things no doubt. The anger came back. It felt familiar. An old friend in the dark. It felt different from that he felt towards Jack. It felt the same. It doesn’t feel like his own.

 

Mccree knows something. He had to.

 

“He doesn't hate you you know. Just hates what he thinks Talon made of ya.” Mccree who always knew when something was wrong, even if he didn’t know what it was. What Talon made of him. It all started with Talon. The death of the people at Rome. Venice. They were investigating moles from Talon. Gerard and him were on to something. They-

 

“You shouldn’t take it to heart Reyes. You’re not a monster.” The inner workings of his arm are visible. They crunch as Mccree repetitively clenches his fist. In-out. In-out. It grates on him. Angers him. Does Mccree really care? He shouldn’t. Another Talon trick?

 

“No? Then what am I?” _What are you?_ The need to feed. The anger. Did that start before his death? _Jesse struggling under his hands_. He isn’t sure what's real anymore.

 

“You’re a survivor Reyes. We all do what we have to to survive.”

 

Reyes thinks, _You didn’t used to say that. You said I did this to you. That I-_ Mccree had stopped throwing that back in his face some time ago. Had stopped digging in that particular knife. At the time Reyes had been too relieved to question why. Why would Mccree leave alone a weakness exposed? Had he? Or had he just been using it? Building trust? To what purpose?

 

He hadn’t hesitated to kill those people. He knew Mccree was in danger and he- _You’re a monster._

 

“Boss? Surely you’re not that upset about what Morrison said. I can go kill him for you if you’d like-”

 

“You said you warned him. What did you mean?”

 

“We both did. We told him that something was wrong-” Mccree is calm. He is lying. Gabriel is surprised he can see it so easily now. He’s not sure if he’s gotten better at reading this version of Mccree or if this Mccree has just become more like Jesse. Or maybe he’s being manipulated. The thought is almost too exhausting to bear.

 

“That’s not what you said”

 

“I-boss…” Had he tripped Mccree up? Was it an act?

 

“Stop lying to me. You know something.”

 

“I haven’t lied to you, Gabe.”

 

“A lie of omission is still a lie. You used to know that bullshit wouldn’t work with me. Now tell me the truth. You warned Jack. Warned him about what???”

 

Mccree looks down to his mangled arm. Laughs a little. It sounds pained. When he looks up, there is something manic in his eyes. “Shit Gabe, you really don’t remember do you?”

 

No. He remembers events vaguely. Sometimes remembers how he felt at the time. But the details are frustratingly elusive. “Mccree please,” Gabriel says, trying not to sound like he’s begging.  

 

“You changed towards the end darlin’. And I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I didn't know. I thought I didn't know you anymore.”

 

Gabriel feels nauseous. There is bile at the back of his throat.  “What are you talking about?”

 

“I wasn’t there for the first time. They sent me away from you. I need you to remember, Overwatch did this to you.”

 

_The first time?_ His head hurts and it feels like there is a block between him and before the explosion as he tries to think back. _The first time for what?_

 

“You remember Venice don’t you?

 

“Venice?” He remembers Venice. Remembers the investigation and the fights he had with Mccree after. Remembers Antonio-

 

As if following his train of thought Mccree interjects. “Ahh yes, Antonio. Big fucker. Do you remember how you felt when you killed him?”

 

He felt- he felt fury. Like he had never felt before. The man had killed his men. Had hurt his family. He had to pay- Reyes has to force his hands from his weapons. For a moment it had felt like he was back there. It feels wrong remembering it now. Like trying to recall an evening when you were blackout drunk for most of it.

 

“What’s your point?” Reyes says gruffly, mostly remembering the fights that had happened afterward.

 

“Oh don’t worry honey, I’m long past the point of moralising. But we both know who ended up benefiting from Antonio dead and it wasn’t Overwatch.”

 

He wasn’t suggesting- “I killed him. I was upset and I-” _I lost control_. It was hard to admit when he’d had to defend the decision constantly. To Jesse especially. But it was his decision.

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought at first. Sure you were angering more quickly back then but you were under a lot of stress. We all were. And you seemed to get better. It’s like it didn’t take. I don't know if it was SEP or whatever fucked up shit Moira did to your physiology-”

 

“Didn’t take? Mccree-” Reyes says, as a denial or lifeline he’s not sure. There are memories now where a moment ago there wasn’t. They’re still hazy but present. Like all he’d have to do is reach.

 

“But then the UN. They sent me to Argentina and you to Lagos. It wasn’t right. I didn’t even get to kiss you goodbye.” He remembers getting on a transport, sending a quick message to Mccree that he wouldn’t be able to meet him when he got back. Remembers smiling at the reply. Things had been better between them recently. The events of Venice felt like the distant past. He switched off his phone, turned to-

 

“I found out you were sent off with Samson of all people to watch your back. You remember Samson don’t you?”

 

Reyes is only half listening, trapped in half-remembered memories. He remembers Samson. Samson who was there when he came back from the dead surrounded by Talon. Samson who he had gleefully dismembered without knowing why. It just felt right. Felt Justified

 

“The mission was only two weeks. Samson said you’d taken a bit of a blow to the head but there were no other injuries to report. They said you had symptoms of post-concussion syndrome.”

 

Memory loss and fatigue

 

_“Hey, you feeling alright?” Jesse asks. Gabriel flinches. How did he get that close without him noticing? He’s sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s in medical bay. The how, what and why are kind of fuzzy. “Doc, there has to be something you can do. He’s still sick.”_

 

_“Relax Agent. This is quite common after a minor traumatic brain injury. All the Commander needs is time.” The doctor sounds bored, like he’s seen it all before. Maybe he has. He’s been with Blackwatch since Moira left. Jesse looks angry though, looks like he’s about to start a fight and Gabriel is just- he’s so tired. He reaches out, aiming for the shoulder and grabs Jesse’s wrist instead._

 

_“Let it go Jesse. I’m sure the doctor knows what he’s talking about. I’ll be fine in no time.” Jesse looks down at where their hands connect. His brow is furrowed and he has to take five deep breaths before Gabriel feels the tension in his wrist ease. He’ll let it go. For now._

 

Sleep disturbance

 

“ _Gabe, wake up!” He struggles. He knows he needs to warn them. Needs to- “Gabe please. You’re at base. You’re here with me.” He wakes up drenched in sweat. He knows he need to- Needs to-_

 

_“It’s okay it was just a nightmare,” Jesse says rubbing his shoulders gently. He ought to push him away. He’s in danger. They’re all danger. He stares at the wall unblinking. He’s afraid but he doesn’t know of what. He doesn’t remember what he dreams about. There was something he needed to do..._

 

Aggression and mood swings

 

_“Let it go Jesse.”_

 

_“Let what go? The way you just tore Miller a new one for having the displeasure of breathing in your company. The way you’re ignoring Ana’s calls? The way I don’t know if I’ll be waking up next to Jekyll or Hyde each morning?” Gabe wants to snap back, wants to yell. But they’re still in public. One of them has to show some damn decorum._

 

_“All of it. I told you I’m fine.” He doesn’t mention the ash he tastes on his tongue. Doesn’t talk about the way he feels anger wriggling under his skin. Like at any moment he could explode._

 

_“Just let me go talk to Angela. Surely there is something we can be doing. Something the other doctor missed?” Jesse looks strained. Exhausted. All of the sudden the anger disappears and Gabriel is left feeling empty again. Like something has been stolen. He prefers the anger._

 

_“It’ll be okay Jesse. We just have to wait it out.” He doesn’t mention how the thought of going to Overwatch now makes him feel nauseous. He doesn’t trust them. Can’t. There is something under his skin and he knows it’s their fault._

 

The memories come like blows. “Why wasn’t I benched?”

 

“You were. But then Amelie disappeared.” He remembers Gerard in tears. Remembers being called into Jack’s office. “And Overwatch decided they needed their perfect soldier more than they cared about you” Remembers being told _Gabriel I’m sorry but you’re our best. You’re needed here_

 

“To be fair you cracked the case almost immediately. It was amazing how you put the pieces together. Almost as if you already knew how the puzzle came together.” Remembers looking at the maps and having this feeling. That is where they’re keeping her.

 

“And when we got her back, of course you couldn’t just go back on medical leave. Look at how instrumental you’d been. Blackwatch needed you. Overwatch needed you. Still it was strange. They said she was traumatised, the way she was acting. But I swear, it just reminded me of you.”

 

“You’re lying. I can’t trust you.” He has to be. The ingrate lies. Everybody knows that. It has to be that because to think otherwise would be to accept that he- _There is something wrong. He knows they’re watching him. Overwatch, Blackwatch, he can’t trust any of them. They are- he doesn’t know who they are. Doesn’t know what’s wrong. His hands are shaking. He needs to be stronger than this. He needs to get under control._

 

“Why would I lie? What possible reason would I have to lie about this Gabe??? You keep talking about how you can’t trust me. Well how the fuck can I trust you? Come on Reyes, you’ve been looking for the Talon sleepers in Overwatch but you never considered yourself.  Little Talon sleeper agent, wound up to explode.”

 

“Shut up.” _He looks in the mirror and the shadows under his eyes have become like black holes. He doesn’t remember the last time he got a full night's sleep. Jesse is worried. Keeps saying he needs to go see a different doctor. Needs to maybe go to Overwatch proper if he has to. Gabriel doesn’t trust them. Doesn’t trust any of them. There is something crawling under his skin. Something is wrong and he knows he should know what is happening. If he could just push past-_

 

“They set you up to open the backdoor into Overwatch, left you too emotionally compromised to stop it and when they realised they weren’t done with their new toy they tried to resurrect you with whatever they’d stolen from Angela. Why do you think they took you back so easily Gabe? The botched resurrection may have cut some of your strings but you’re still a puppet.”  

 

_He doesn’t remember coming home last night. The way Jesse is looking at him- did they fight? Gabriel wants to reach for him but earlier Jesse had flinched away from him._ “Shut up.” _Jesse keeps opening his mouth as if to speak then stops. Puts his hands to his throat._ “Shut up.” _There is something- why can’t he think??? The bandana at Jesse’s throat is so red. There is something beneath-_  “STOP!” Gabriel yells. It hurts. His hands cover his ears but he can’t make it stop. _Make him stop. You can’t trust him. Can’t trust them. Feed. Destroy._

 

“Still in there, ready to do their bidding. They just need a work around to this wraith stuff. But once they’ve got it-”

 

Mccree is cut off as Reyes slams him into the wall. Reyes wants to yell, wants to scream in his face but the anger chokes him. He can’t breathe.

 

“Hmm seems like they’re right,” Mccree says slightly breathless. If he’s afraid he doesn’t show it. He slowly raises his flesh-and-blood hand, telegraphing the movement. It caresses Reyes’ mask, the gesture feels out of place. Shock silences the anger and memories crawling under Reyes’ skin. Gently he asks, “Are you angry with me Gabriel?”

 

“Yes I-”

 

“Why?” He doesn’t know. He looks down at his Talons still pressing Mccree against the wall. He needed him to stop. To make him stop.

 

“You should be angry. I knew something was wrong. I could have stayed, could have helped you. Is that why you’re angry?”

 

No. No if he was one of them then Mccree was right to get the hell away from him.

 

“You know I’ve known you for twenty years. I don’t ever once remember you raising a hand in anger.”

 

He remembers being young, remembers his Mama yelling at him after he got in a fight at the schoolyard. Remembers her tearfully telling him that he can’t afford to react, can’t afford to fight back because they’ll kill him for it. Remembers his hands around Mccree’s throat. He's so angry but its not him, its not real. He feels like he’s drowning but it’s Jesse gasping for breath. _Gabe. Gabe please-_ He used to be in control. The anger is ash in his mouth. It tastes foreign. A parasite in his mind. His grip slips from restraint to desperation. What was he doing? Were he to let go, he is not entirely sure he would remain upright.

 

“It feels different doesn’t it? Once you untangle it in your head.” Gentle fingers comb through his hair. A small soothing counterpoint to the mess in his mind right now. Gabriel lets go with a shudder. He’s shaking, probably has been for a while. The anger is still there but he’s in control again. Or maybe the guilt is just smothering it. If he was the sleeper then Zurich was him. It was his fault.

 

“I planted the bomb.” All those people, dead in an instance. _Sirens. Heat. Pain. God it hurts so much. He tries to call out. To Jack? To Jesse? He chokes on the dust instead. Make it stop. Make it-_

 

“No it-” Gabriel doesn’t notice Mccree’s calm dissipate. His head is in agony. Like now he’s broken a hole in the dam, the memories won’t stop. Not that he deserves them to.  

 

“I killed Gerard” _Gerard’s body, dead on the kitchen floor. Amelie missing again. He’d been stabbed to death. There were no signs that he fought back._ He chokes down a sob before it could completely leave his mouth.

 

“If not you-” Mccree is actually starting to look panicked. It’s no comfort.

 

“Fuck I almost killed you. And I killed all those-”  He’s rambling now but he can’t stop. At some point Mccree’s arms had to come to bracket him. He grips Gabriel tightly now.

 

“Gabe you didn’t,” Mccree says, ducking down to try and see Gabe’s eyes. He can’t breathe. So many dead. Because of him. Mccree shakes him a little, forcing their eyes to meet. “You didn’t, I promise.”

 

“How do you know?” He can’t focus. He needs to get away but Mccree’s grip doesn’t falter.

 

“There wasn't time.” Mccree is watching him. Measured. Waiting. As if willing him to believe.

 

“There was time enough to get Amelie to kill Gerard. Time enough to get me to almost-”

 

“Those were just triggers. A bomb requires planning. Needs to be premeditated. It wasn’t you”

 

“How do you know???” Gabriel all but yells.

 

“Because I know what they did to me! It takes time to peel back a person! To take away a layer at a time until you-”

 

“Until you what?”

 

“Until you don't care anymore. And it hurts. It hurts so much and they want you to remember. To know what'll happen next time you step out of line. You would know Gabe. They had you for at most two weeks. It wasn't you.”

 

There are tears in Mccree’s eyes and he’s panting. What’s left of his mechanical hand flexes as if desperately reaching for a calm that is no longer there. Gabriel wants to reach for him but is too transfixed to move. The shock at least finally manages to slow his breathing. Then Mccree blinks and the tears are gone. Like Gabriel imagined them. The need to break the silence, to say something, anything, is almost unbearable.

 

“I’m sorry.” It seems woefully inadequate. I’m sorry for what? For helping destroy Overwatch? For doubting you? For forcing you to relive horrors nobody should have to go through? Even if Mccree seems fine now, the fracture was there. And Gabriel saw it. No matter how much Mccree might wish he hadn't .

 

“It’s okay,” Mccree says and it seems to be. He seems calm. Like his outburst never happened. “You just needed to know it wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault. It was theirs.”

 

_Theirs_. Talon’s? Gabriel doesn’t dare hope Mccree might turn against them. Might work with him against them. And yet-

 

“Who?”

 

“Overwatch.” Mccree manages to dash those hopes anyway.

 

“They’ve not the ones that brainwashed me.”

 

“No they’re the ones who used you and spat you out. Morrison, I told him something was wrong, that you needed help. He didn’t trust me. He never had the time to check. He needed you the soldier so much he never checked in on you as his best friend. As his brother. Talon might have messed you around but they were your enemies. Overwatch was meant to have your back. They left you to suffer. Left Ana to die.

 

“Ana is still- I saw her.” He regrets it the moment it slips out. Sees the flicker in Mccree’s expression. A moment of uncertainty replaced with anger. Betrayal.

 

“Then she abandoned us too. If you can’t be angry for you, then be angry for me. I fucking warned Jack. If he’d listened to me the first time, do you think I would have left to find proof? He as good as sent me out there.”

 

“You- you left to investigate?” He was angry then. Angry for the time they’d lost. That Jack hadn’t helped him when Gabriel couldn’t. He- it felt different from the parasitic anger from before.

 

“There you go, now you’re getting it. Talon used you as a means to an end but Overwatch. They’re the ones that betrayed you Reaper.”

 

Reaper. Mccree never calls him that, except for at base. A warning and not a particularly subtle one. He’d forgotten as they spoke. Forgotten that Mccree was Talon’s asset. That he was theirs as much as rebellious part of Gabriel wanted to say mine. Mccree knew him, had always known that he wouldn’t blame Overwatch for what happened. He knew why he was here. _Plausible deniability._ It make him think of Jack and him before the fall. Jack who was responsible for what happened to Jesse. In the end it isn’t hard to summon the persona of Reaper once more.

 

“You’re right. They did betray us, did betray me. I will make them pay for that, all of them. But Talon needs to stay out of my head.” _Please let Talon be out of my head_.

 

“Of course. You’ve proven yourself an dangerous enemy.” _You mean you set me up to kill someone as a warning_. Not that that helped with the shit already in his head. The anger was still there under his skin. Malignant. Waiting for him to let down his guard. Reyes thinks of the fight with Jack earlier today and shivers. If he’d gotten close, if he’d been in the position to pull the trigger- A part of him took satisfaction at the thought.

 

He wasn’t safe. Still Talon’s monster no matter how much he loathed them. He thinks of Jack’s corpse, of shotgun pellets caving in his chest. Remembers the scene when they found Gerard, remembers leaning over Jesse, his hands around his partner’s neck. He tastes ash in his mouth.

 

_It’s not real. It’s not real._ He knows that. Can’t help feeling out of control anyway. Can’t help the flinch when Mccree tries to touch him again. He goes easily when he feels Mccree push him forward. Gives in to rest his head on Mccree’s shoulder for a moment and just breathe. Let the scent of gunpowder, cigar smoke and something distinctly Mccree soothe him.

 

“There we go. You’re alright Gabe. You’re alright.” He’s not alright. Not really. Hasn’t been for a long time. Longer than he even knew.

 

Mccree pulls away first as Gabriel unconsciously leans to keep contact. He struggles to hold and keep himself steady. He’s meant to be stronger than this. Yet as Mccree walks towards the bathroom he can’t help but feel bereft.

 

“You coming?” Mccree asks. He’s smiling but it seems softer than his usual mask. It takes Gabriel a moment to parse his meaning. Another before he can bring himself to shake his head.

 

“I'm not interested.” He wants- he wants Jesse but the thought of sex, of feeding, makes him nauseous. He was well fed. The poor guards had seen to that. Morrison was right. He really was a monster.

 

“Good thing I'm not offering.” He doesn't seem disappointed. Still soft around the mouth and the eyes. “Now, you coming?” He leaves the bathroom door open. Gabriel stands frozen even as he hears the shower start. He shouldn't. They're not. He feels a pull towards Mccree anyway. Like gravity. He stops in the doorway even if everything within him yearns to move forward. They’re not like this. Not anymore.

 

“I should-”

 

“Gabe please.” His resolve breaks. The exhaustion of the day, of Morrison, of his panic attack, has all crept up on him. He can’t deny himself this.

 

They exchange no words even as Mccree gently turns him to wash his hair. An old routine made new.  He stand and lets the water wash over him for a moment blissfully empty of thought or memory. Mccree is gentle. It feels familiar and yet not. They haven’t done this. Sex yes, but comforting each other? Staying close for closeness sake? It doesn’t feel real.   

 

He stays silent even as the shower is shut off. As Mccree ushers him towards clean clothes and then as he dresses. It is only when Mccree pulls him back towards the bed that he hesitates. Fights the urge to dive into Mccree’s arms, to accept the comfort offered. He hovers at the edge of the bed undecided. The fog is clearing from his mind and a part of him, the part that is always suspicious suspects a trick. Otherwise why would- why would he want-

 

Mccree’s eyes narrow. Quicky his arm darts out, pulling Gabe down to the bed, Gabe left loose limbed in his confusion. Unhurriedly he adjusts Gabriel so his head rests on Mccree’s chest, wrapping his strong arms around him. Holding him tight.

 

“Mccree-”

 

He feels a little annoyed when Mccree shushes him. Compared to the anger of earlier it is inconsequential.  

 

“You’re always bringing up my trauma, trying to torture yourself. Maybe I'm sensitive. Maybe I need some comforting,” Mccree says, making no effort at sincerity. Gabriel can’t help the spike of lov- affection that flows through him. Nor the little smile when he feels fingers stroke through what is left of his hair.

 

“You're lying.” Gabriel says fondly. He still doesn’t understand but he doesn’t want to question it anymore either. For the first time in a long while, he feels human.

 

“Mmm,” Mccree made no effort to deny the accusation. “Maybe...I don't really feel much of anything anymore.”

 

Gabriel winces against his chest. _You were upset before_ , is what he wants to say. _You hate Morrison, you lo- you care for me._ Instead:

 

“You feel angry sometimes you said.” He waits for the moment Mccree starts to tense, to leave. It doesn’t come.  

 

“Sometimes. It isn’t like what they did to you. I don’t really know how to explain it. I guess It’s like hearing through water. The sound is there but you can’t- it’s distorted. Muted. Sometimes you don’t hear anything at all.” He laughs and it's all Gabe can do not to flinch away. “At least I have the stomach for what needs to be done now, right boss?”

 

“Mccree I-” Gabe fights against the hand holding his head close. He needs to be able to see Mccree’s face right now.

 

“Fuck. I’m sorry Gabe. That’s not what you need right now.” Mccree is looking down at him, apologetic. His hands have shifted downwards to rub circles on Gabe’s back.

 

“I’m not-” _I’m not broken?_ He’d lied to himself enough for one night. “I can take it. What I said and did back then. You shouldn’t be the one apologising to me.” He shifts so he lies beside Mccree instead of half on top of him. Mccree obliges in turning so they can see each others eyes. Their arms don’t disconnect. Neither wants to let go of that point of contact.

 

“I don’t blame you.”

 

He wants to say, _You used to. You should._ Instead he asks, “What was I like back then?” _You said you didn’t know me anymore._

 

“Angry. Paranoid. Confused. I think there must have been a block in your mind to stop you putting together the pieces, from knowing you were compromised. To stop anyone from helping you.”

 

“Is that what happened with you?”

 

“Something like that. I tried to bring up that was something wrong. Must have triggered something.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“You stopped though. You stopped. And in the morning you’d forgotten but I could see you were upset anyway. A part of you knew what was wrong. You stopped sleeping much towards the end.”  


“But I couldn’t figure it out.” Gabriel can’t help but be bitter at his past self.

 

“You tried. But whatever was in your mind, it wouldn’t let you.” Mccree whispers, voice heavy with emotion. “I think it was driving you mad.”

 

_I think it did._ He doesn’t know how Mccree could bring himself to caress his face with the skin dissolving into smoke. Doesn’t know how Mccree could bring himself to touch the monster that had hurt him, had brought Overwatch down from within. Doesn’t know how much of his anger was Talon, doesn’t know what else they’d put in his head.

 

“I don’t know what’s real anymore,” he whispers into the space between them. He lets Mccree pull him close again. He doesn’t have the energy to resist even though he knows he doesn’t deserve this. Comfort from a man he’d failed so completely.

 

“It’s okay sweetheart. I know you. I know you.” He falls asleep in Mccree’s embrace. It’s not okay but he can let himself believe it is. Just this once.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Gabriel wakes up well rested for the first time in forever. The spot next to him is empty but warm. He sees movement in his periphery and turns to say good morning though the words die in his throat. Mccree is rubbing his mechanical arm, a grimace of pain on his face.

 

“Are you alright?”  
  
Mccree looks up startled. “Yeah, yeah it's fine. I just need to-” It sparks a little and Mccree cuts off cursing.

 

“I could-”

 

“No.” Mccree cuts him off. His grimace has only gotten worse. “It’s Talon’s arm. They can fix it.”

 

Sleep fuddled, it takes Gabriel a moment to understand. He looks from Mccree to the arm and back again. Mccree had been more forthcoming than usual last night. More than Talon would have liked. Was it the arm being damaged that made him brave enough to do so? Was the arm being damaged the only thing that allowed him to? He looks at Mccree in pain and wishes he could destroy Talon now, damn the consequences.

 

“What will they do to you if they find out you told me this much?”

 

“They won’t.”

 

“How do you know? If they ask you-”

 

“They won’t ask Gabe. They don’t care what I say. It’s you they care about.”

 

“How do you know they won’t ask? Why wouldn’t they?”

 

“I imagine its cause they know they already broke me.” He says it matter of fact. Like it's an undeniable truth. Like it doesn’t bother him. Gabriel doesn’t believe its true. Refuses to believe. But he wasn’t there. And they’re running out of time now. Time before extraction. Time before Mccree replaces his implacable facade. Because it is a facade. Has to be. _The mission, remember the mission._

 

“What do you tell Talon about me?” He tries to sound casual, fails horribly. The _you know me_ is unspoken.

 

“Oh only what I know,” Mccree says flirtatious. Gabriel is better at reading him now. He still sees the edge of pain in his eyes. Mccree seems determined to ignore it. Gabriel will follow his lead.

 

“And what do you know?” _What have I given away?_

 

“I know you want revenge; I know you’re angry at Overwatch, angry at Jack Morrison.” Neither lies. He thinks of the foreign anger he felt towards Jack, the knowledge that Mccree left because Jack wouldn’t believe him. Wonders if he fought Jack today, how much of him would be left?

 

“And that’s it?” He’s sure Mccree had his number the moment they were paired up together. Probably before then. If he wanted, he could have ended Reaper’s quest for revenge back with the Sander’s kid.

 

“Talon has no use for conjecture without evidence. An asset with an opinion,” He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. _Then they're missing the best part of you._ Jesse had always been a good shot but it was his talent for reading a situation, reading people that made him second in command. As much as Gabriel had hated when they disagreed, he'd always known to listen. At least until towards the end.

 

“What do you think you know?” He needs to know what to be prepared for if Talon asks. If Mccree answers. Mccree saunters closer, smiling all the while.

 

“Oh lots of things. Your ideal holiday spot. That you secretly like to be the little spoon.” He’s close now. Close enough to touch, to kiss. “I think you’d kill for me, Gabriel,” he says like sharing a secret. Gabriel closes his eyes for a moment. Remembers the guards from yesterday. He hadn’t hesitated. The uneasiness is back. _Trust. You want to trust him_.

 

When he opens his eyes, Mccree is right in front of him, his arm moving to wrap securely behind Gabe’s neck. He smiles and its real. “I think you want the name of the man who did this to you. To us. And I think when you find him, you’re going to make him very sorry.”

 

Gabriel freezes. Despite being well fed last night, he feels his hunger erupt at the thought. Feels the darker side of himself sing. He tries to force calm. Mccree basically sitting on his lap doesn’t help. “And would you tell me?” Gabriel says stiffly. Mccree laughs a little.

 

“Well now, we both know that I can’t. But! I know where you can find him,” Mccree says conspiratorial. His beard tickles Gabe’s ear as he gets even closer, whispers, “Lagos.” He leans back and Gabriel recognises the glint in his eye. Bloodlust. Mccree gives him an appraising look and then a quick kiss before jumping off Gabriel’s lap to prepare for extraction. Gabriel only half-notices, mind elsewhere.

  
_Lagos._ It tastes true. The white hot fury returns but this time Gabriel knows its his. He thinks about the pain he can inflict, the wreckage he will create of that man’s life. He thinks about revenge. And the Reaper smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working title of this chapter may have been 'the cuddling'. Also I'm so sorry for the comments that went unanswered. My thought process was pretty much, "hey I've almost finished this chapter anyway! Oh wait...this is taking way longer than I thought." Anyway I apologise for not replying cause they really did make my day.

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this AU that wouldn't exactly leave my mind and exams are coming up which we all know is the best time to write things completely unrelated to exams so... Anyway, behold my contribution to the Mcreyes fandom. I haven't written in ages, please be gentle.


End file.
